


Leave Your Lights On

by jesseofthenorth



Category: White Collar
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-21
Updated: 2012-11-21
Packaged: 2017-11-19 04:40:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/569200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesseofthenorth/pseuds/jesseofthenorth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter can hear Neal before he gets to his hospital room, and he doesn't sound very happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leave Your Lights On

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt 'lights out' by hybridshade at [run the con](http://run-the-con.livejournal.com/) over at LJ. 
> 
> Title taken from the Everlast/Santana [song](http://youtu.be/5di5EhZshdQ) of the same name, because I'm pretty sure there at least metaphorical monsters under Neal's bed, no matter what Peter says.

Peter can hear Neal before he gets to his hospital room, and he doesn't sound very happy. He's using that _tone_ , the one that makes him sound like a whiny 5 year old, the one he thinks will con people into do _whatever he wants_ the tone he uses when he's high and he wants something. 

Yay. 

Only, the closer Peter gets the more real distress he detects. This isn’t actually Neal trying to run a con on the doctors or nurses; this is Neal distressed and trying to bargain.

“No, no, really. I'll be good! I'll just sit here quietly in this bed and not move or be any trouble. Just. Please...”

Peter can hear a woman say something in what he's sure she thinks is a soothing tone and unhappy muted reply. Peter arrives just as a woman in scrubs steps out of the room and pulls the door closed. Peter can hear the unhappy sound Neal makes, through the door. The woman looks harried, she is dressed in scrubs but isn't wearing a stethoscope. So a nurse then, and one who is clearly tired of dealing with Neal.

“How's he doing?” Peter asks her.

“Is he always this annoying?” she shoots back. It's clear she's out of patience.

“Not usually, no. Not like that anyway.”

She huffs at him and leaves without answering Peter's question which isn't really that helpful. He pushes open the door to see what the damage is.

The lights are turned down and Neal is cuffed to the bed. Which he has made well known in the past he is not particularity fond of. One side of his face is bruised and there is nest of fresh stitches on his hairline, his wrist is wrapped and one leg is elevated, a pillow under the knee. He has an IV with an extra bag, so there are more that just fluids going in to him, which explains the whiny tone, at least partly. Drugs aren't really Neal’s friend. He tends to lose track of boundaries whenever hospital-strength pain meds hit his bloodstream.

Again, yay.

Peter watches as he approaches the bed, Neal is clearly agitated. Which is not usual. He's pulling at the wrist the cuff is on, rattling ineffectually against the bed rail, but clearly trying to shake it loose. His gaze darts around the room a little frantically until it lands on Peter.

“Peter! Thank god! I need you to help me!” Neal shakes his restrained wrist at Peter, looking confused and worried. “You have to let me out of here! I didn't do _anything_! I was just doing what you said and then the guy hit me with the bottle and there was blood and police and FBI everywhere and they put me in the ambulance and with the handcuffs and gave me some kind of drug and I got all messed up! And then they stick me in here and I have hand-cuffs and then they _turned out the lights _!” He sounds really unhappy about it.__

__Peter moves in closer reaching to rest a, hopefully, calming hand on Neal's shoulder. “Hey, buddy. Just take it easy, okay?” Neal nods at him, wordlessly “No one thinks you did anything wrong. But you did get hit in the head pretty hard and they wanted to keep you for observation.”_ _

__Peter think it's going to be enough to get Neal to calm down a little, except Neal looks at him with big wet eyes, and holy geez not this. Peter really kind of hates painkillers right now._ _

__“But Peter.” Neal says so, so quietly. “They turned off the lights.”_ _

__“I know buddy. It's night time. You need to get some rest.” He leans in a little and tries to encourage Neal to lie back._ _

__“But” Neal looks around, as if there is a threat. A real threat, as if something really bad is going to happen._ _

__“What, Neal?”_ _

__“Is this prison? I thought it was the hospital. When I woke up. But then there are hand cuffs. And _they turned out the lights_!” He looks at Peter like that explains everything. Also still with the big eyes. “I don't like lights out.” he tells Peter leaning in close, voice hushed, like it's a secret._ _

__Oh. Not lights out, but 'Lights, Out' as in every night at exactly 9 pm for four years. Well. That makes a lot more sense than a knock on the head and some painkillers, although, the knock on the head and the painkillers certainly haven't helped._ _

__“No Neal. This is St. Luke's and it's one in the morning. That's why it's quiet, and the lights are out.”_ _

__“Oh!” Neal says, relieved and already starting to relax. “Oh. Well that's good then.” He kind of collapses back into his pillow, tension falling away fast, now the he knows he's okay. He looks over and Peter is struck with how young and vulnerable he looks, the way he only looks when he is too tired to put up a front._ _

__“Can you stay? For a bit?” Even if Peter had been planning on leaving he wouldn't really be able to in the face that. Neal works really hard at never looking vulnerable at all, ever. It's proof of how wiped he must feel that he would let any of it show._ _

__“Yeah, buddy I can stay.”_ _

__Neal closes his eyes then as if it was the last thing he needed to feel safe._ _

__Peter pulls up the only chair and sits down._ _


End file.
